


Your Health Insurance Doesn't Cover That

by SomethingWitty



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Nurse!Jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2630228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingWitty/pseuds/SomethingWitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dr. McCoy has been close friends with Jim Kirk for years.  He's also been in love with Jim for years.  He just has to make sure that Dr. Gary Mitchell from Trauma doesn't get his claws into Jim first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Health Insurance Doesn't Cover That

**Author's Note:**

> This fic sprang to life after reading an anonymous post on ofjimkirk.tumblr.com. The prompt: "Imagine Leonard continually getting cock blocked by Gary Mitchell from Trauma who always manages to be there to compliment Jim's hair, piercings, etc. and Leonard being a little grumpy-jealous bc he REALLY wants this little punk-neonatal nurse to be his. And Jim just being oblivious to most of this going on and instead being perfectly content making the little babies smile." 
> 
> Title taken from a Star Trek post I saw somewhere on tumblr, as well. If you can identify the source, please let me know.

Leonard McCoy clutched the cup of black coffee in his hand as he climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. He passed a few other staff members making their way down the stairwell, though no one spared more than a cordial head nod in his direction, probably sensing that the full cup of coffee signaled an undercaffeinated and therefore irritable Dr. McCoy. Opening up the stairwell door into the incandescent light of the fourth floor hallway, he let his feet guide him unconsciously on the well-worn path to the Pediatric ICU of Atlanta Children’s Hospital. He scanned his badge at the secured entrance and the doors opened for him with an electronic beep.

The Pediatric ICU was bright, with large windows in every Patient’s room letting in as much sunlight as February in Georgia would allow. There were colorful cartoon bears and tigers on the walls and therapy dogs led by proud owners patrolling the premises. The 24-bed ICU held the sickest and highest-acuity patients that Atlanta and the surrounding counties could muster without necessitating transfer to an even higher level facility. They had orthopedic trauma patients, congenital heart defects, neurodegenerative disorders – the whole gamut. That’s why the walls were bright and the Staff was so cheerful and there was a constant stream of hypoallergenic therapy animals rubbing their wet noses on little hands – the Pediatric ICU could fucking suck sometimes and they needed to keep spirits high.  

Doctor Leonard McCoy, a Pediatric General Surgeon, wouldn't prefer to be doing anything else. As he sat himself at a computer by the Nurse’s station and printed off his rounds list for the day, Nurse Christine Chapel grabbed the seat next to him and opened up a chart.

“Good morning, Dr. McCoy. Do you think you’re caffeinated enough yet to talk about the 7-year-old male strangulated abdominal hernia patient in Room 16?”

McCoy scoffed into his coffee and replied dryly, “It’s never too early to talk about strangulated hernias, Chapel. But yeah, Conner is going for surgery later this morning with a laparoscopic approach. Do you think Dr. Marcus from anesthesiology would be available to assist on the case?”

“I’ll call over to Surg and find out.” Christine replied as she began pulling up the order sets for surgery.

McCoy nodded his thanks and grabbed a pen to start signing off on the stack of paper orders that seemed to have magically appeared in front of him.

“Oh, and Dr. McCoy?”

“Yeah?”

Christine smirked at him, “I hear Dr. Mitchell from Trauma is still in the running for Nurse Kirk. You better strike while the iron’s hot, you know?”

Blustering, McCoy opened and closed his mouth several times in quick succession, looking more like a catfish than a Physician. He chose instead to look down at his paperwork and mutter, “There is no iron, Chapel. And if there was an iron, it’s not hot. I don’t have any interest in Jim – that’s absurd and frankly, bordering on sexual harassment and I don’t even know what you’re referring to anyway, we are professionals and –" He looked up and realized Christine had long since walked away and he had been muttering to himself like a crazy person. Regardless, it was true. There was nothing between he and Jim, they were just friends. Unfortunately.

They had met five years prior. McCoy had first noticed the kid as he was scouring through textbooks in the Hospital cafeteria one night after-hours. He had seen McCoy’s badge identifying him as a Surgeon and asked him with tired eyes and a frustrated tone, “Hi there, Doc. I bet you've done a Whipple Procedure or two in your time. This textbook sucks and I really don’t understand what the heck I’m reading. Think you could help me out?”

Frankly, McCoy didn’t want to help anybody out with anything at that point other than helping _himself_ to a turkey sandwich, but something about the bags under the kid’s striking blue eyes reminded McCoy of his own days as a helpless Med Student. He sighed, but nodded and pulled up a chair across from the younger man. He quickly explained the procedure and asked if Jim, that was the Kid’s name, needed anything else cleared up. Jim had said, actually yes can you explain this and that, and by the time another hour had passed He’d helped Jim study through seventeen pages of anatomy notes and taught him a dirty song on how to remember the carpal bones. McCoy himself had learned that Jim was in his second year of Nursing School and after he graduated in another two years, he was planning on coming to work at the Children’s Hospital.

Jim had seemed to latch on to him after that, and at first McCoy found himself annoyed at Jim’s uncanny ability to always be in the hospital cafeteria or break room when he was. And the nickname. That fucking terrible nickname. You teach a kid a few anatomy mnemonics and suddenly he is calling you “Bones” like he’s forgotten your actual birth name.

The annoyance phase didn’t last too long, though, and soon McCoy found himself getting equally attached and actually starting to look forward to dinners and late-night coffee sessions with the guy. It helped soothe the aching reminder that he didn’t have anything to go home to anyway. His Wife....ex-wife....had taken his little girl four counties away and had settled down nicely with that fuck-face Clay Treadway. He got to see his Daughter every other weekend. Other than that, he came home to an empty apartment and made dinner for One every night, so yeah, staying late at the hospital to have some actual human interaction seemed preferable to going home and finally giving in to his urge to run to the bottom of a bottle.

When Jim had had to leave Atlanta General to do his next clinical rotation at another facility, McCoy actually found himself missing the kid. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding. He loved the bright and cheery bastard. He loved the way Jim called him Bones even though the moniker was like nails down a chalkboard. He loved that Jim had opened up to him and told him the story of a lonely kid in Iowa with type 1 diabetes and no social support who didn’t understand what was happening to his body and had grown up into a man who was determined to make sure no other kid ever felt that alienated. He loved the way Jim would steal his grapefruit from his dinner tray _every time_. One night he got a banana instead since Jim wouldn’t steal that, but the pout on Jim’s face was so pathetic that the next night McCoy gave in and grabbed a grapefruit, knowing Jim would steal it with his big, toothy smile – which he did. He loved helping Jim go through his notes, seeing the kid figure out problems and studying with him.

Fuck, he had it bad.

He’d never act on it, though. The Hospital policy was crystal clear on Staff-Student relationships. Jim was a twenty-two-year-old nursing student and McCoy was in his first year as a Staff Physician – Jim could be expelled and McCoy himself would get in hot water. So, the two parted ways as professionals and the rest of the medical staff bemoaned the return of surly Dr. McCoy.

They kept in touch, though, and when it came time for Jim to look for nursing positions, McCoy was ready and prepared to pull some strings for the kid. As it turned out, he didn’t have to – having Christopher Pike, the President of the Hospital, as your pseudo-adoptive Father pretty much guaranteed you a position. McCoy couldn’t really bring himself to call out the blatant nepotism in this case, since it was clear that Jim was actually a pretty spectacular Nurse. Having Pike as a connection was probably also the reason Jim could get away with the blue streaks in his hair and the ear piercings, not that McCoy was complaining about those, either.

As he made his way to Room 16 to check on the pre-op patient, a familiar voice from a few rooms down caught his attention. He hovered in the large doorway, watching the object of his previous train of thought talking to a little girl with newly-diagnosed type 1 diabetes.

Jim’s back was facing the door, but McCoy could hear the smile in his voice. “It’s not so bad, Kylie. You’ll have to pay really close attention to what you eat from now on and we’re gonna make sure your Mom and Dad know how to help you with that, but there’s some perks, too. You get to carry packs of gummy snacks with you all the time, and some day pretty soon you can even get one of these,” He pulled up the hem of top to reveal the small insulin pump clipped to his scrubs and the thin almost clear line of tubing going to his stomach.

“It’s pretty great because you don’t have to give yourself as many shots. I think we can both agree, the less needles, the better, right?” Kylie shook her head enthusiastically.

Jim nodded mock-solemnly, “So this time, when the lady from Nutrition comes by again, can you do me a big favor and give her a chance? She’s nice, I promise.”

Kylie seemed to consider this for a moment, but even she was immune to Jim’s imploring puppy eyes and she soon nodded her head in agreement.

“That’s my girl!” Jim responded with a high five that was met eagerly by the nine-year-old.

Jim turned around to exit the room and nearly ran into McCoy, who was still standing in the doorway, and almost lost his balance in an effort to avoid colliding with the older man. He saw Jim’s face rapidly shifting from excitement at seeing McCoy to Oh-Shit-I’m-Falling. On reflex, McCoy’s hands sprung out to steady Jim and the two froze for a moment. Jim stood a little straighter on stable feet and McCoy tried very hard to ignore the way he could feel Jim’s muscles move under his hand which had grabbed Jim’s waist. Jim stared at him, still with the remnants of a smile on his face, and McCoy couldn’t help but stare back.  All those stupid clichés about being caught in someone’s eyes suddenly made sense because McCoy couldn’t fucking tear himself away from the younger man’s ridiculously blue eyes.

A throat clearing jostled him out of his trance and both he and Jim physically jumped away from each other.

“Dr. McCoy, I wasn’t aware Kylie was in need of a Surgeon consult.” Dr. Uhura, the Endocrinologist, smirked at him.

Jim jumped to his defense. “Dr. Uhura, Bones – err – Dr. McCoy was just coming to ask me about how the Patient over in room 16 did overnight, and I almost tripped, but he caught me, and – uhh – how can I help you with Kylie here?”

Uhura stared him down and Jim shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

Dr. Uhura was the only person in the Hospital who could make Jim stand down with just a look; Hell, she could make anyone bend to her whim with that ‘I will neuter you’ stare. She was also probably the only person Jim couldn’t smooth talk. Fortunately, for all that Uhura did enjoy reminding Jim that she didn’t buy his bullshit, she wasn’t actually mean, and her face softened, “As soon as you’re done....briefing....Dr. McCoy, can you make sure we’re monitoring Room 7’s blood glucose every four hours?”

Jim nodded in confirmation, and with one last glance at McCoy, followed Uhura into the room to talk to Kylie.

McCoy stood awkwardly, one hand still hovering in the air, cold and missing Jim’s body heat. From across the nurse’s station, Christine Chapel and Hikaru, the physician assistant for pulmonology, viewed the whole incident in dark fascination. Dr. McCoy shuffled awkwardly in place for a few seconds before seeming to remember that he still had a Patient to see in Room 16 and walked off, eyes burning a hole in the linoleum floor. Christine threw her hands up in the air in frustration and Hikaru closed his eyes and shook his head mournfully, “Idiots.”

\-----

So here’s the thing. Hospitals are just like High School. There are cliques and bullies and popular kids. There are affairs and rumors and plots. Everyone knew that Spock from Case Management and Dr. Uhura were sleeping together. Everyone knew that Janice from Rheumatology had would write her personal cell phone number on the prescriptions of attractive patients. Everyone knew that Scotty from the Boiler room could get you the best moonshine this side of the South Carolina-Georgia line. Everyone knew that Dr. McCoy from Surgery had it _bad_ for Nurse Kirk, just like everyone knew that Dr. Mitchell from trauma would not rest until he got a crack at the guy, too.

Which brings this tale to Gary Mitchell, Trauma surgeon, who was put on Earth by the gods to lay his hands on the sick and to fuckin’ save lives, and look damn good doing it.

Or, at least, that was Gary Mitchell’s version of why Gary Mitchell existed.

He wasn’t one to deny himself things he wanted, and he wanted the hot blonde pediatrics nurse, the one with the great ass and the lips to match. He’d been working on Jim Kirk for almost a year, but the guy wouldn’t budge. That was okay, though, Gary was an ace at playing the long-game and if Jim wanted to play hard-to-get, Gary could play even harder.

Sure, he knew McCoy from Surgery was also trying to snatch the guy up, but McCoy was also a pussy who didn’t know how to take advantage of what was right in front of him. If McCoy wasn’t going to pick up that opportunity, then Gary certainly would. He just had to bide his time until Jim realized that McCoy would never man-up, and Gary would be there waiting to provide some....emotional support....for Jim.

\-----

McCoy sat on his couch at home on Thursday night, hunched over a journal with a highlighter in one hand and the other hand rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. A knock on the door startled him out of his daze and he set the journal down. Another impatient knock sounded and McCoy automatically knew who it was, even before he heard “Open up, Bones! The food’s getting cold!”

He swung the door open to reveal Jim Kirk, both hands weighed down with plastic bags smelling of Greek take-out. McCoy grunted his thanks as he took one of the bags out of Jim’s hands, “I knew there was a reason I kept you around, kid.”

Jim snorted, “Oh I’m sure it’s more than that. Who else would let you steal candy from the secret sweets drawer at the nurse’s station?”

McCoy rolled his eyes, “Everyone. Everyone would let me take the candy. You don’t have the monopoly on doling out cavity-inducing twix bars, you know.”

The two split up the various boxes of falafel and hummus on the small table in front of the couch, Jim claiming the large box of dolmathes and McCoy getting spanakopita. They settled on the sofa, McCoy flipping through channels while Jim quickly tested his blood sugar and plugged some numbers into the pump at his side.

These were nights McCoy looked forward to. Ever since the beginning, with he and Jim sharing dinner in the quiet cafeteria, to now with the two of them eating at his apartment and watching mindless television and making fun of reality TV show contestants.

“Hey, Bones.” Jim said, around a mouth full of kale.

McCoy raised an eyebrow at him in response, mouth also full.

“So, Dr. Mitchell asked me out today.”

McCoy paused, hand tightening around his container of food so tightly the Styrofoam cracked. He swallowed hard as he replied, “....And?”

Jim looked down and to the side for a moment, an expression crossing his face that McCoy couldn’t figure out.

“Well, I know you and him don’t get along so great, so I just wanted to run it by you. If you don’t want me to, I’ll tell him No. You know…never mind, it was stupid anyway, just forget it.” Jim muttered, shaking his head and playing with his plastic fork.  

“Jim, you’re a grown man and if you want to date Mitchell, that’s your choice and my opinion doesn’t really matter here.” The words felt like sand in his mouth.

Jim’s expression closed off and he nodded without saying anything, picking up his food and starting to eat it again. McCoy’s gut suddenly got heavy with the suspicion that he had just seriously fucked up.

\-----

His reception Monday in the Pediatric ICU was frosty, at best. You’d think McCoy had kicked one of the therapy dogs or something.

Hikaru looked at him coldly, Christine gave him the same gaze that his Mama always did when she was disappointed, and the young Russian nurse shook his head when McCoy walked by. Hell, even Dr. Uhura told him, as she passed by quickly, “You’re an idiot, Len.”

Remember how the Hospital is just like High School? Turns out that by Monday morning everyone knew that Leonard McCoy had broken Jim Kirk’s heart and the aforementioned Jim Kirk had gone running into the tender and waiting arms of Gary Mitchell.

McCoy just wanted to scream at them, Jim was a grown ass man. Of course McCoy hated the thought of Jim going out with that scum bag, and the idea of his grubby hands on Jim made McCoy want to inject the other Doctor with a very large bore needle, but he wasn’t going to tell Jim who he could and could not date. It wasn’t like Jim was even interested in an old divorced thirty-something, he’d never given any hints or signs or implied....Oh fuck.  

McCoy  _was_ an idiot.

\-----

By the time his afternoon break rolled around, McCoy had been silently glared at by so many people that he elected to avoid the hospital cafeteria where most of his coworkers would be and went to the small Doctor's Lounge, making a bee-line for the almost-hidden table in the back corner.

In fact, this table was so secluded that Dr. Mitchell never even noticed McCoy sitting there as he strolled towards the cooler, talking with Dr. Finnigan and his Intern John Harrison in tow.

"I'm telling you, Finn, this kid almost sucked my brain right out of my dick, I think I went cross-eyed for a minute."

Finnigan laughed boisterously in that obnoxious frat-boy manner that only he could pull off, "Active weekend, Mitchell? I really don't need to hear any more of whatever kind of sick shit you get up to."

Mitchell grinned, "I mean, to look at him, like obviously Kirk's got the lips to suck cock."

McCoy had never simultaneously felt the urge to both vomit and to punch someone in the face.

Harrison nodded along, eyes glinting with something like gleeful menace, whereas Finnigan just looked like he had heard this from Mitchell one too many times. And Mitchell just kept going, "But I'll tell you guys, he is just built for it - hold him down and make him take it - I haven't heard a slut whine like that since the last time I ordered Cinemax After Dark."

The urge to punch someone won out, and some part in the back of McCoy's mind noticed how curious it was this his vision went red. He wasn't even aware of his legs lifting him off the chair, or his feet walking across the room. He _was_ very aware of shoving Mitchell into the wall and holding him up by the lapels of his jacket.

The smug fucker only grinned at him, "Aww, Lenny. You had your chance. So why do you really want to get your feelings hurt that Kirk ended up in my bed - and on my floor - and not yours?"

McCoy gave him a hard shake and was rewarded with a grunt from Mitchell, "I told Jim he can do whatever he wants, I don't own him. If he slept with you, I don't have to like it, but it's not my business. What _is_ my business, is when you say that kind of shit about one of the best Nurses we have here. You will _not_ disrespect my best friend like that in public or private. And if I hear you talking shit like this again, someone is going to deal with you, either Pike or myself, and I doubt you'd enjoy what either of us does to you."

Mitchell at least had the decency to look abashed, Finnigan appeared uninterested, and Harrison looked like he was watching a sporting match.

Mitchell opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by the overhead chime.

_"Code Blue, Pediatric ICU. Code Blue, Pediatric ICU."_

McCoy pulled his hands off of Mitchell and sprinted out of the Doctor's Lounge, taking the stairs up to the fourth floor since it would be faster than the elevator. A Nurse at the station pointed him in the direction of Room 3, where a kid with pneumonia had been staying. By the time he slid to halt in the doorway, he found Dr. Uhura already on the scene calling out orders.

"Chekov, what's my time!"

"Right at two minutes, ma'am."

"Okay, Chapel, give me another amp of epinephrine."

Christine walked calmly but quickly to the crash cart and got the med.

"Kirk, you've been compressing for two minutes, switch out. Can someone check a pulse?"

With Dr. Uhura already in control of the situation, McCoy himself hung at the periphery of the room, ready to jump in for anything Uhura needed. The team worked like a well-oiled machine, and Jim left the side of the bed to vent-bag the patient while Nurse Gaila hopped quickly into place and picked up compressions.

"We're still in fib. Prepare to defibrillate."

On and on they went as the Patient's condition deteriorated, McCoy involuntarily flinching with every shock of the defibrillator. But finally, Uhura hung her head, "Okay people, I'm calling it."

The code ended quickly at that point, the staff disbursing back to their other duties and Spock hard at work making arrangements and telephone calls. In the large exodus, McCoy almost missed seeing Jim speed-walk away from the scene and disappear down the hall. McCoy turned on his heel and followed him. It didn't take too long to figure out where Jim went. There was a little closet at the end of the hall that McCoy had once caught him hiding in after seeing another Code when he was still a Student.

He knocked softly on the door, not waiting for an asnwer before opening it and, indeed, finding Jim sitting on the floor of the closet with a wrecked expression.  

"Found me." Jim smiled grimly, sniffling and bringing up a hand to wipe away the tears from his eyes. "It's not very professional, I know. I should be back out there, I have another Patient...."

McCoy took a step closer, and then another, kept walking until he was standing right next to Jim. Red-rimmed blue eyes looked up at him and McCoy felt like his heart was being squeezed, "Jim, I know for a fact that Kylie is stable and not having any complaints. Nurse Gaila is also on the floor taking care of her. You can take a minute to breathe."

Whatever he said was the wrong thing to say, and Jim hung his head as new tears came. "Ha. Breathe. Right. That's what Tyler said to me this morning, that he was having a harder time breathing. I told him we'd take care of him. I promised him, and now he's dead. Another day in the ICU, huh?"

McCoy dropped to the floor and wrapped his arms around Jim's shaking shoulders. "You're one of the best Nurses I know, Jim. You let the kid's lung doctor know that he was having a hard time, right?"

Jim nodded.

"And you performed every order that doctor gave, as quickly and as best as you could, right?"

Jim nodded again.

"Then it's not your fault. It's probaby not anyone's fault. It fucking sucks, but don't you dare blame yourself for it."

Jim turned in towards him, hiding his face in the crook of McCoy's shoulder, somehow squeezing himself in even closer as the older doctor's arms tightened around him.

"You probably think I'm pathetic. I've been a Nurse for three years, I should be able to get over this. To not go cry in a fucking closet when a code goes south."

McCoy didn't even think about it as he kissed the top of Jim's blue-streaked hair and said, "That's the thing I love most about you, kid. It's that you _do_ still feel it this much. That you care and you haven't let this Hospital beat it out of you."

Leonard McCoy spent fifteen minutes in a supply closet clutching Jim Kirk to his chest until the younger man gave a final sniffle and pulled back a few inches to look at McCoy with dry eyes and soft smile.

"You're a better man that you give yourself credit for, Bones." Jim leaned in, closing the distance between them, eyes on McCoy all the while.  The younger man took his time moving in closer, giving McCoy more than ample room to pull back if he wanted to. Warm hands cupped McCoy's face and He let his eyes close as Jim planted a soft kiss on his lips. He may or may not have moaned in to it, only the closet walls would ever know. His hand carded through Jim's hair and pulled his head closer, sucking on Jim's bottom lip.

There was one unresolved issue that McCoy did feel he needed to address as he broke the kiss, "Jim, what about Mitchell?"

Jim pulled back too and looked at him with a frown, "What do you mean?"

McCoy opened his mouth, but was cut off by the closet door opening to reveal the form of Christopher Pike, lit from behind by the incandescent hallway lights.  

"Doctor McCoy, I think you're needed in post-surgery." Pike said in a tone of voice that actually meant 'Get out of here, now.' He turned a slightly softer expression on Jim. "Get back to work if you're ready, Nurse Kirk." Jim nodded and brushed past McCoy, shooting him a look behind Pike's back promising that this would be discussed later.

\-----

'Later' came about an hour after McCoy got into his apartment that night. Jim still had the decency to knock on the door, but the moment McCoy turned the knob he found himself with two armloads of Kirk coming at him hot and heavy. He melted into the touch and let Jim kiss him and nip at his neck. He felt  himself being walked backwards into the couch, the seat hitting behind his knees and causing him to fall back onto it. Jim crawled into his lap and straddled his hips, still mouthing hot and wet against McCoy's neck as he pushed his own hips into the older man's. McCoy became explicitly aware of the blood flow flooding right into his cock as Jim ground against him again, and his hands grabbing at Jim's shirt and balling into fists as he tried to pull the other man against even closer to him.

Jim leaned back, McCoy's lips chasing after his for a moment. Blue eyes sparkled at him.

"I didn't fuck Mitchell." Jim said.

McCoy sighed, running his hands up and down Jim's back, "Kid, even if I hate it, I'm not going to tell you who you can and cannot be in a relationship with. You don't have to be embarrassed. But if we're gonna do _this_ ," He looked Jim up and down, "then it does have to be just me, okay? I can't compromise on that."

Jim huffed a sigh and McCoy thought maybe he'd gone too far, but Jim just laughed a little and said, "For a Doctor, you can be kind of dumb sometimes. I only asked you about Mitchell the other day because I wanted to see your reaction, gauge if you'd get jealous or not. You didn't, so I went out with him. I didn't have sex with him - or do anything else with him, really. He picked me up for dinner and spent the whole evening trying to get his hand in my pants and the only thing I could think of the whole time was how much better the night would've been with you, instead. I told him he was a douche bag and went home early."  

McCoy stared blankly up at Jim, who just grinned down at him and said, "And then today near the end of shift, Finnigan's Intern comes over and tells me that he overheard Mitchell saying all that shit about me putting out, and was concerned about the ethical quality of the Nurses at our establishment," Jim laughs. "And apparently you body-slammed Mitchell."

McCoy growled to himself, "That bastard shouldn't have been disrespecting you like that, Hell, shouldn't talk about _anyone_ like that."

Jim shrugged as he reached a hand between them and palmed at McCoy's swelling cock, eliciting a moan from the older man and his hips bucked up into Jim's hand. "Still," Jim said hotly against McCoy's ear, "it sounded beautiful, you defending my virtue and all."

Without warning, McCoy pulled Jim tightly against him and flipped them horizontal on the couch, pressing Jim into the cushions with his body weight and sliding his hands under Jim's scrub top, "Darlin', by the time I'm done with you, you won't have any virtue left to defend."

 

 


End file.
